Implied
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Hori is starting to get suspicious." Hori is starting to notice that Mikoshiba and Nozaki are unusually close, even if Mikoshiba doesn't.


Hori is starting to get suspicious.

It's a given that all his friends are stark raving mad - that he figured out long ago, as well as come to terms with the necessary negative reflection it casts on his own mental stability. He's not bothered by it, any more than he finds Yuzuki's casual insults upsetting or frets about the constant swarm of Kashima's fan club. At present it's just a relief that he's dealing with neither of them, has been working steadily on backgrounds for nearly two hours with only the low rumble of more masculine voices as backdrop. It's pleasant, would even be calming except.

Except for what's happening on the other side of the table.

The table has four distinct edges, enough space for everyone in Nozaki's apartment - Nozaki himself, Hori, Wakamatsu, and Mikoshiba - to claim their own workspace. The fact that Mikoshiba is currently more than halfway around the corner to Nozaki's side is a little odd but not anything outside the norm for those two, anymore than the way Mikoshiba keeps touching Nozaki's hip to get his attention for a question. It's normal, as ordinary as the way Nozaki leans in close enough for his hair to catch against the bright color of Mikoshiba's, as completely everyday as his fingers lingering at Mikoshiba's wrist when he tugs it away from the panel so he can point out what he's explaining. There's nothing remarkable about the bright of Mikoshiba's smile, the way he's looking at Nozaki's face instead of at the page, the way his eyes are going soft at the corners and his cheeks are flushing into unconscious color.

Hori clears his throat. Two sets of eyes come up to blink at him, neither Nozaki or Mikoshiba showing the least trace of jumpy nerves he half-expects.

"Do you need more space?" Hori asks, shifting like he's suggesting moving over to make more room at the table. It's the closest he can come to pointing out how close Mikoshiba is to Nozaki, to drawing attention to the fact that Nozaki's arm is braced behind the other boy at an angle that is only just shy of actually resting at his hip.

Hori's expecting some kind of reaction. Nozaki doesn't seem to know the meaning of embarrassment but Mikoshiba lights up at the least self-consciousness; usually it's enough just to speak to him directly to bring him into stammering incoherency.

Mikoshiba blinks at him, forehead creasing into confusion and face clear of even the faintest color. "What?" He looks at the sheets spread across the table, the obvious gap of unused space where he had started before gravitating almost to Nozaki's lap. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you feeling cramped?" Nozaki asks with absolutely no trace of insincerity. "You can spread out farther if you need to." His hand really _does_ come up, then, fingers fitting against the curve of Mikoshiba's waist like they belong there as he tugs to urge the other in close. "Here, move around to my side."

"No, that's-" Hori starts, but Mikoshiba's already moving, as completely submissive to this suggestion as if it were his own. The table's not that wide on any of the sides - fitting two to an edge means Nozaki and Mikoshiba are pressed in close from shoulder to knee, Mikoshiba's hair catching Nozaki's shoulder everytime he turns - but neither of them voice the least complaint, miraculously fitting themselves together before Nozaki looks up at Hori with steady eyes.

"Go for it," he announces.

Hori stares for a moment. Nozaki is watching him, his gaze so level he's either teasing Hori or completely oblivious; Mikoshiba is still remarkably calm, though he's looking down at the table instead of at Hori, his mouth falling into the beginnings of a frown like he's working through a difficult problem in his head. Hori can all but see the gears falling into place, calculations turning themselves into heat in the other boy's cheeks as understanding creeps up on him, implications combining to form certainty. Mikoshiba opens his mouth, his flush deepening as he braces himself to speak, and:

"You don't mind, right, Mikorin?" Nozaki asks.

Mikoshiba's chin comes up, his eyes going wide and soft as he looks up to meet Nozaki's steady gaze. "No, of course not!" is what he says with every indication of pure happiness, whatever creeping suspicion was forming in his mind shattered by the moment.

Hori very, very narrowly restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the tabletop.


End file.
